Recovery
by BarbT
Summary: Ryan Kelly had a severe head injury in June of 2012. This is my take on how his recovery might have gone, mostly from his own point of view. Celtic Thunder
1. Chapter 1

_Obviously, I don't know the details of Ryan's injury and recovery beyond what he has shared with us, but I do know a lot about brain injury recovery as a whole. I'm a physical therapist and worked for several years in an inpatient brain injury rehabilitation unit, so I saw many patients awake from comas and move through various stages of their recovery, from mild to very severe injuries. Some of the things you'll see in this story may seem strange to you, but I assure you they are common occurrences in brain injury units all over the world. There will be parts of this story where you may think I've mistaken Ryan's personality, but I've seen what I'm writing happen dozens of times._  
 _Anyway, on to the first part of my story! Please let me know what you think._

Raymond Kelly sat at his brother Ryan's bedside in the Intensive Care Unit of a Belfast hospital, reading. It was late at night, and quiet, only the sounds of monitors and nurses moving about. He'd spent most nights of the last 3 weeks here, watching over his much-younger brother. Ryan had fallen down the stairs at his home, hitting his head so hard on the wall that he'd fractured his skull and caused bleeding on the surface of his brain. The doctors had had to do surgery to remove the blood clot, which was putting pressure on Ryan's brain. They had put Ryan on sedation to keep him unconscious, telling the family that this gave Ryan the best hope for recovery - but they could not guarantee that Ryan would not suffer permanent and possibly severe brain damage. At one point they were not even sure he would survive. Fortunately, Ryan was now showing signs of recovery and the drugs keeping him unconscious were being weaned off.  
Raymond looked around the room and sighed. These late night vigils had been easier in some ways a week ago, when Ryan's bandmates from Celtic Thunder had been able to be with them. The doctors had been reluctant at first to allow the other band members to enter the room, as non-family members were usually not permitted in the ICU - but Ryan's family had unanimously declared that the other band members might as well be Ryan's brothers and insisted they be let in. From that moment on, the other lads had taken it in turn to stay with the family day and night, providing emotional support, making sure that the family ate and drank and got away from Ryan's bedside once in a while. They quickly endeared themselves to the hospital staff by taking orders for drinks and snacks whenever they went to the cafeteria and stayed out of the way when they needed to. They became even more welcome when, during one of many instances when Ryan's vital signs had become unstable, Keith had subconsciously begun singing - a habit of his when he was under stress. The nurses were surprised and pleased that Ryan's vital signs stabilized on their own. They didn't make the connection until the same thing had happened several more times - Ryan always stabilized or stayed stable if Keith was singing. The other band members tried it and found that their voices worked as well - and they could only assume that Ryan could hear them and was comforted knowing that they were there. At one point the family tried using the Celtic Thunder CDs, but that experiment was quickly stopped when they realized that Ryan became more unstable when his own voice was playing. From that point on there was nearly always music in Ryan's room, and he had begun to recover more quickly and with fewer setbacks.  
But now the other lads were gone, not without protest - but a contract was a contract, and they had a two-week gig in Atlantic City to perform. They had each made recordings of themselves singing and left them with the family, and called daily for updates. But the family missed their presence and support, none more so than Raymond who was usually alone at night. He'd insisted that his sister Colette stay with their parents at night in the nearby hotel, knowing that the stress was difficult for his parents to handle and worrying that something might happen to them as well.

A movement next to him drew Raymond's attention, and he smiled a little as he saw Ryan turning his head and moving his hands. Ryan had only started making these small independent movements yesterday, and the doctors said it meant that he was beginning to awaken. Raymond was just glad to see him moving on his own. For the first week Ryan had been here, his arms and legs had been very stiff, especially his left, his fists curled up on his chest and his feet pointed like a dancer's. The doctors said this was due to the pressure and swelling in his brain. Physical and occupational therapists quickly made splints for his feet and hands to keep them stretched out so they wouldn't stiffen in unusable positions, and had come daily to stretch Ryan's muscles, while the nurses changed his position every few hours. Thankfully, as the pressure in Ryan's brain had decreased, so had the abnormal muscle tone and they had been able to stop using the splints. Now he was moving all four limbs on his own, which was a good sign that he had escaped any serious paralysis.

Raymond yawned, and decided he'd better go get a cup of tea if he didn't want to fall asleep in the chair. He wouldn't be gone long, and Ryan was doing well.

As Raymond returned to the room, he quickly set down his cup and looked at Ryan in dismay. He wasn't just randomly moving anymore, but almost thrashing around. Was it one of the seizures they'd been warned might happen? He hoped not. Maybe it was the next stage of Ryan waking up? The doctors had told them that it was almost inevitable that Ryan would go through a period of intense agitation when he first woke up, as his brain struggled to cope with the sensations that he hadn't experienced since he'd been unconscious. Because the part of the brain that would tell Ryan whether he was behaving appropriately or not would not really kick in until later, they'd been warned that his personality might be very different as he first awoke - irritable, angry, and potentially aggressive. It would be complicated by the fact that Ryan likely would never remember the accident, and most likely would have trouble remembering when he was told about it for a while as well - it was very difficult for newly-awakened coma patients to form new memories initially. Raymond couldn't imagine Ryan behaving that way. The doctors said he could pass through that stage in a few days, or get stuck in it for a prolonged period.

Raymond stepped over to the bed. "Ryan? Ryan, it's Raymond. It's OK, calm down." Ryan turned his head towards Raymond and fought to open his eyes. He looked very confused.

In a very low, very hoarse voice, Ryan said, "Ray? What...?"

"You had an accident, Ryan, and you're in the hospital."

Ryan closed his eyes, then opened them again, looking no less confused. He started to reach towards his right arm, where an IV line was inserted. "Hurts".

"What hurts?"

"Arm..." By now Ryan's fingers were starting to scratch at the IV. "Hey, don't!" said Raymond. "You need to leave that alone." Raymond took Ryan's hand and moved it away from the IV line. He was surprised when Ryan yanked his hand free and reached for the IV again. Raymond grabbed his hand and held it, saying, "Ryan, you can't touch that. It's an IV drip, you need it."

Suddenly, Ryan was growling words that Raymond didn't think he even knew, calling Raymond every name in the book, and his right arm came up in a wild swing at Raymond's head. "Hey, Ryan, settle down! Nurse!" Raymond yelled.

Rapid footsteps came closer as Raymond struggled to keep Ryan from pulling out the IV line. "What's wrong?"

"He woke up out the blue, trying to pull the drip out and saying his arm hurts!" Raymond panted, working hard to keep Ryan from grabbing, hitting, or banging into anything.

"Can you hold him? I'd rather not upset him any more by getting more people he doesn't know in here to hold him down. Just long enough for me to get a good look at his arm."

"I'll try", Raymond said and held on, trying to catch Ryan's gaze. Their eyes locked and he softly said, "Ryan, it's OK, the nurse is checking your arm. Just relax and let him see what's wrong, OK?"

"OK", Ryan said weakly, already exhausted from the struggle. He laid back limp against the pillows.

"No wonder he was upset", the nurse said, "The IV line shifted and the fluid's been going into his arm instead of his vein. It's like having a bad bruise with a lot of swelling, with a needle in the middle of it as well. I'll pull the line and we'll let him settle down before we try to put another one in". He quickly pulled the needle out and covered the spot with a bandage.

"Better, Ryan?", asked Raymond. "No", Ryan said rudely.

"The swelling should go down on its own shortly", said the nurse. "The fluid will absorb into his body, there's nothing in it that will cause a problem. I'll be back in about 10 minutes to check on him, OK? Let me know right away if he gets agitated again."

"Yes, thanks," Raymond said. He pulled a chair to this side of Ryan's bed and sat down, still holding Ryan's left hand. Ryan looked up at him.

"Ray, where am I? Why are you here?" Ryan's voice was quiet, and even more hoarse from trying to yell.

"You're in the hospital in Belfast. You had an accident."

Ryan suddenly looked worried. "Is Neil OK? Was he hurt?"

"Neil's fine," Raymond said, confused. "He wasn't with you."

"I was with him", Ryan insisted. "Doing our ABC tour. If I was in a car accident, he must have been, too."

"You were already back from the tour, you'd been home for a couple of weeks" Raymond said. "Neil was in Dublin when the accident happened. It wasn't a car accident, you fell down the steps at home."

Ryan looked puzzled. "I don't remember being home, last thing I remember is the tour..." he muttered sleepily.

"Don't worry about it now, Ryan, just go back to sleep. It's really late at night." Raymond watched as Ryan's eyes closed and his breathing slowed and evened out. He sat back in the chair and let out a rush of air. That had not been fun at all, and he was really glad his mother hadn't been there to see it. He knew he'd have to tell her about it in the morning, though. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he checked the caller ID and smiled. It was Neil, calling to check in.

"Hey, Neil, wish you'd called a few minutes ago" he said.

"Why?"

"You might have been able to talk to Ryan for a minute and convince him you're OK." Raymond smiled as he heard Neil say, "WHAT?"

"Ryan woke up about 10 minutes ago, cursing like a sailor and trying to tear the drip out of his arm, tried to take my head off with a swing as well when I stopped him. The nurse came and figured out the needle had shifted and was hurting him, so she took it out. Once he settled down he asked why he was here, and when I told him he'd had an accident he was convinced that the two of you had had a car accident on the ABC tour and that you must have been hurt as well. He doesn't even remember being home. He was exhausted from all that and fell right back to sleep a couple of minutes ago."

"Ryan tried to hit you?" Neil said incredulously. "I can't believe it. And he was cursing?"

"Yeah," Raymond said tiredly. The adrenaline rush was gone and he was exhausted, too. "The doctors told us he might be agitated when he woke up, remember?"

"Yes, but I didn't expect something like that!" Neil said.

"Nor me, mate," said Raymond. "I hope it doesn't get any worse before it gets better."

"I hear you," said Neil. "Well, I'll pass the news on and get the crew praying for him to get through this fast. At least he's awake, and knows you, and can talk, right?"

"Thanks, Neil", said Raymond, smiling. "You just gave me the silver lining to that cloud, you know? Good night."

Raymond leaned back in the chair, his eyes closing. Neil was right. Ryan had woken up, had most of his memory, and was able to talk clearly. It was almost more than they'd dared hope for. For the first time, he felt optimistic about the whole situation, and fell asleep in the chair with a smile on his face. He didn't even wake up when the nurse came back and was able to get the IV into Ryan's other arm without trouble.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Raymond was waiting outside Ryan's room when his parents and Colette arrived. The nurse was in helping Ryan with his morning care. Ryan had been awake, but very passive and lethargic when Raymond left. Now he could hear him occasionally answering the nurse's comments.

"How was the night, Ray?" his father asked.

"Interesting," said Raymond, with a bit of a grimace.

"Wait." said Collette. "Is that...can I hear Ryan TALKING in there?"

"Yeah," said Raymond, grinning now. "He's awake. But last night..." The grin faded as he shook his head, remembering.

"What happened, Raymond?" his mother said, worried now.

"Remember they told us he would probably wake up agitated, and his personality might be different? It was. Admittedly, he was in pain because the IV needle had shifted, but Mam, his language would have made a sailor blush, and he tried to hit me! He doesn't remember being home from the ABC tour at all, and he thought he and Neil had been in a car accident. Why'd he'd be in a Belfast hospital if that was the case I don't know, I guess he's just not really thinking clearly."

Ryan's mother dropped her head. Collette and their father both put an arm around her and they could see she was crying. But then she raised her head and said firmly, "At least he's awake. It's a start."

Raymond gave his mom a hug. "That's what Neil said last night when I told him, that he's awake, he has most of his memory, and he's speaking clearly. It's a lot more than we might have expected."

Raymond suddenly realized that Ryan's voice from inside the room had risen, and he sounded like he was arguing. There was a sudden CRASH and a loud "NO!" from Ryan. "Oh, Lord," said Raymond, "there he goes again." He turned back towards the room door.

His father stopped him. "You go back to the hotel and rest, son. It's my turn." He entered the room and saw Ryan sitting bolt upright in bed, glaring at the nurse. The tray table had been knocked to the floor along with a basin of water that it held. "What happened?"

"I was just about to start bathing him..." the nurse started and Ryan yelled, "I told her to leave me alone! I can do it myself, just let me out of this damned bed and I'll get in the shower myself. I don't need her poking around me!"

Mr. Kelly looked at the nurse. "He knocked the tray over? Are you OK?"

"Yes, just wet," the nurse said. "But I can't let him get up until after the therapists have been in to evaluate him. He's going to have a busy day very shortly and he needs to be ready for it".

Suddenly a pillow came flying at them. "Stop talking about me like I'm not here!" raged Ryan.

"I'm sorry," said Mr. Kelly, "you're right, Ryan." He turned to the nurse. "Would you leave us alone for a few minutes? Just let my family outside know everything is OK." The nurse nodded and stepped out of the room.

Mr. Kelly fixed a stern eye on his son. "Now what's all this about, Ryan?"

"I told you. I can take care of myself. I don't need some bitch of a woman to bathe me and dress me."

Mr. Kelly raised his eyebrows. This was definitely not the Ryan he knew. He could have seen Ryan being embarrassed by having a strange woman help him, but this anger was unexpected. "Would you rather have a man help you?"

"NO! I don't need help! Let me get up and I'll do it myself!" Ryan started to swing his legs over the edge of the bed and put his feet on the floor - and his legs buckled under him. Fortunately Mr. Kelly had seen this coming and was there to catch him and heave him unceremoniously back up to the bed. Ryan sat there for a moment gaping at him, and then grabbed his head, saying "Dizzy..." Mr. Kelly helped him lie down again.

"Da, what's wrong?" Ryan whispered, looking terrified. "Why don't my legs work? What happened?"


	3. Chapter 3

Mr. Kelly gathered his son into his arms. "It's OK, Ryan. You'll be OK." The fear in Ryan's voice was painful. Releasing Ryan from the hug, he pulled a chair over and sat down. "Do you remember talking to Raymond last night?"

"No. He was here when I woke up this morning. Where is he?"

"Hopefully getting some sleep, he was here with you all night. But he's probably out in the hall with your mother and Colette. Should I have them come in?"

"Please, I want to see them."

Mr. Kelly walked over to the door. As he'd expected, everyone was out there, looking nervous. "He's settled down," he said, "and he wants you all to come in". Mrs. Kelly went to her son and gave him a hug. Seeing that he looked scared she sat on the chair and took his hand.

"Mam," Ryan said, "What happened? I tried to get up and my legs wouldn't work. What's wrong with me?"

"You've been in bed for a few weeks, Ryan, your legs are just weak."

"Why? I don't remember getting sick or anything."

"You fell down the stairs at home and knocked yourself out. When you didn't show up for dinner and didn't answer your phone, we came to check on you and found you at the bottom of the stairs. When the ambulance got there, they took one look at you and called for a helicopter to fly you here to Belfast."

"Knocking myself out wouldn't put me in bed for weeks, Mam. Something else had to have happened."

Mr. Kelly took up the story. "You didn't just knock yourself out, Ryan, you cracked your skull and had bleeding in your brain. It nearly killed you. You've been in intensive care for 3 weeks."

Ryan looked at him, stunned. "Three WEEKS? I've been out for 3 weeks?"

"Yeah," Raymond said. "Been a long time since we've been able to talk to you, ya know?"

"Wait a minute," Ryan said, closing his eyes. "Ray, did I get mad at you last night? I think I tried to hit you or something?"

"Yeah, you did," said Raymond. "First time I've ever been glad to get in a fight."

Ryan gave him a shaky grin. "Didn't hurt you, did I?"

"Nah, you didn't even connect. Just scared the heck out of me."

"I'm sorry," Ryan mumbled, looking away.

"It's OK, Ry, you didn't know what you were doing."

The nurse stuck her head back in the door. "Hate to interrupt, but the occupational and speech therapists are here to start checking you out."

Ryan looked puzzled. "For what?"

"The OT is here to see if you can dress yourself, and the speech therapist wants to make sure you can swallow all right so we can give you some breakfast. After that the physiotherapist will be up to see about getting you up out of bed so we can move you out of the ICU."

"More people poking at me, huh?" Ryan mumbled. Looking sheepishly at the nurse, he said, "Sorry about knocking the tray over, I just got so mad..."

"I understand," she said. "It's the brain injury that makes you lose control when you're scared or tired. It'll get better, and I'm used to it. I know not to take it personally."

The occupational therapist had brought a set of scrub clothes for Ryan to dress in, since he didn't have any of his own clothes there. She shooed the family out of the room, but shortly let them back in, smiling. "He passed," she said. "Just had to help him figure out how to get the trousers up without being able to stand up. Can you bring some of his own clothes in - just sweat pants and t-shirts for now? And some slippers or simple shoes?"

"Sure," said Raymond, "I'll go back home after I get some sleep and get some stuff for you, Ryan. I'm going back to the hotel before I fall asleep standing up."

The occupational therapist stayed in the room as the speech therapist came in with a tray. "Ready for something to eat? We're not going to give you a lot, your stomach's not used to food right now. I just need to make sure you can swallow safely and not choke. Since I understand you're talking clearly, everything is probably OK, but we don't want to take any chances. Last thing you need is a case of pneumonia from having food get into your lungs."

Ryan eyed the tray warily. "I've heard about hospital food. What's on there?"

The therapist laughed. "Nothing too scary. Some custard, some bread, a bit of sausage, and some eggs. Real eggs, I promise."

"Why custard?"

"It's the easiest consistency of food to swallow, so it's the safest to start with. If you can swallow that, then we move on to things that have to be chewed."

Ryan carefully worked his way through bites of all the different food and drank some milk and water without a problem. The therapist had him talk after every mouthful, listening to see if he had food caught in his throat or lungs. The occupational therapist left after seeing that Ryan was able to handle the utensils without a problem. Very quickly, Ryan said, "I don't think I can eat any more. None of it tastes like anything, anyway. Is it supposed to be that way?"

"Hmm..." the therapist said, frowning. "No, it's normal food. It smells fine to me."

"I can't smell it either," said Ryan.

They all looked at him. "Really?" Colette said. "Not at all?"

"No, nothing."

"Well, that's odd," said the speech therapist. "I'll make sure I let your doctor know when I turn in my report. Dr. Reilly should be in to check on you soon, anyway." She left the room.

Ryan looked at his family. "I'm really tired," he said, his eyelids drooping as he spoke. "Can you guys let me catch a nap?"

"Of course," they chorused as they filed out of the room, knowing he'd want to keep talking if they stayed in. Once outside the door, they all looked at each other. "So...," said Mr. Kelly. "Eating, talking, dressing himself. Big change from yesterday, eh? Not sure I like this not tasting or smelling anything, though."

Mrs. Kelly said firmly, "If that's the worst of what he's left with, we can all count our blessings."


	4. Chapter 4

Dr. Reilly, Ryan's neurologist,, came down the hall. "Well, good morning, Kelly family," he said with a smile. "I understand we've had some pretty dramatic changes in the last 24 hours. I'm just about to go in and check him out."

"Would you mind waiting a few minutes?" Mrs. Kelly said. "He's just asked us to leave because he was tired. He's only been awake about an hour and a half, is it normal for him to tire out so quickly?"

"Absolutely," Dr. Reilly replied. "His brain is only going to be able to take so much stimulation for a while before he gets overloaded. It's not processing information as efficiently as usual yet. His response is going to be either to withdraw into himself and not react to what's going on around him, to go to sleep, or, if he is pushed too far, to react with agitation. I understand he's had a bit of that as well."

"Yes," Mr. Kelly said. "Ordinarily Ryan is very gentle, but he's been aggressive a couple of times and has been using some pretty foul language as well."

"Unfortunately that's to be expected for a bit. The executive center of his brain, which holds the information on how to behave in certain situations, takes a bit longer to recover than some of the other parts. He'll react without thinking for a while. He may not remember those instances or he may remember them later and realize that he was wrong to behave that way."

"Yes, that's what's happened so far," said Colette. "He tried to hit Raymond last night, but remembered it and apologized this morning, and apologized to the nurse as well for knocking over the tray table."

"That's a good sign," said Dr. Reilly. "The time it takes him to realize what he's done in those situations will get shorter and shorter, until eventually he'll be able to stop himself from doing them at all. The other form agitation sometimes takes is difficulty controlling other emotions such as sadness or frustation. Don't be surprised if he starts crying or withdraws over a situation that's only mildly frustrating. He's also likely to misunderstand things, forget things you've already told him, and make up things to fill in the gaps of what he can't remember."

"Did the speech therapist get a chance to speak to you yet?" asked Colette. "About Ryan saying he couldn't smell or taste anything?"

"No, I hadn't had a chance to talk to her yet." Dr. Reilly frowned. "We may have to do some further assessment on that, but other than making him unwilling to eat or drink as much as he should, for the moment it's a relatively minor concern. Now, shall we go in and see how he is?"

As they stepped into the room, the family grew concerned. Ryan didn't react to them entering the room at all, although he appeared to be awake. His eyes were open, but they looked strangely empty.

"Doctor?" said Mrs. Kelly fearfully. "What's wrong?"

"This is the withdrawal I told you about," the doctor said quietly. "His brain is blocking out what's going on around him as it tries to process what he's experienced today. Trying to get him to participate in anything right now will probably only agitate him. I'd suggest leaving one person here to stay with him, quietly, and the rest of us leaving and letting him rest. Whoever stays should just wait for him to come back to himself. He may fall asleep, or he may gradually return to a more alert level. I'll tell the nurses to hold back any more therapists for the time being."

Ryan slept briefly while Colette sat watch. He ate a bit of lunch, only enjoying the tea, but when asked if he could taste it, he replied that he couldn't but it felt good going down. Dr. Reilly returned to conduct a neurological examination, which showed that, while Ryan was able to remember his and his family's personal data, and everything up to the end of the ABC tour with Neil, he still had no memory of the few weeks before his accident, and did not know the current day, date or month. His muscles were weak, and it was unclear whether there were some small issues with coordination or if it simply appeared that way due to his weakness. Dr. Reilly was initially a bit concerned that Ryan smiled at him with only the right side of his mouth - but after the family stopped laughing, they explained that Ryan had been doing that for years and it was something of a trademark of his. Overall, he was doing very well, and Dr. Reilly cleared him to be moved out of ICU to the neurosurgery recovery unit.

The physical therapist arrived for his assessment. He tested Ryan's strength more thoroughly, and then helped him to sit on the edge of the bed with his feet hanging down. Ryan was able to stay there for about 5 minutes before becoming dizzy and needing to rest. The PT explained that this was because his heart wasn't used to having to pump blood up and down hill since he'd been lying flat for so long, and it would take some time before he adjusted to the position change. After a brief rest, he had Ryan assist with getting himself from lying down to sitting, leading Ryan to mutter "Slave driver" under his breath. The PT only laughed, saying, "I've heard much worse. I think we PTs get the most abuse of any of the therapists! There are more nicknames and definitions for the letters PT than I care to tell you!" This time, when Ryan started to get dizzy, the therapist encouraged him to swing his legs and move his feet to help pump the blood back uphill - but Ryan had had enough and shoved him away from where he sat beside Ryan. Or at least that was the intent. The only effect was that Ryan knocked himself over. That was the end of his temper, and he levered himself up on one arm, grabbed the nearest thing he could reach, a foam cup of ice water, and threw it as hard as he could across the room, then collapsed back on the bed and curled up in a ball, shaking. The PT said gently, "I see you've got a good arm. Don't worry, in a few days we'll have you up playing ball." He nodded to Mr. Kelly, who had been watching the session and left the room. Mr. Kelly came over to sit by his son and placed a hand on his back, rubbing gently.

"Da", Ryan said.

"Yes, son?"

"Da, I hate this." Ryan's voice was shaky. "I'm so weak, and I can't even control myself. I feel like I'm not me anymore." As he looked at his father, tears were running down his cheeks.

His father thought for a moment, and then the perfect response came to him. "Patience, young Jedi." Ryan gave him a shaky grin. "You've been awake less than 24 hours. Give yourself a chance."

As Ryan had not been able to sit up long enough to have a wheelchair ride to his new room, he was moved there by the simple expedient of unlocking the brakes on his hospital bed and rolling the whole thing to the new unit. This was a novel enough concept that Ryan perked up a bit during the trip. Dinner was a quiet affair; the family brought theirs up from the cafeteria to eat with Ryan. After dinner, Ryan brought up the subject they'd all been avoiding, nervous as to how he would react.

"I'm surprised none of the guys have been here to see me yet," Ryan said.

"They would be if they could, Ryan, you know that," said Mrs. Kelly.

"What's keeping them?" Ryan said. "They've got to know I want to see them. Unless..."

"Unless what?" Raymond asked.

"Unless they gave up," Ryan muttered.

"Now come on," Raymond said. "You know they wouldn't give up on you. In fact they were here, night and day, round the clock for 2 straight weeks! And most of it singing to you, and then going home and singing more to make recordings for you for when they couldn't be here."

"Why were they singing? And where are these recordings?"

"The recordings are in your Ipod." Raymond was hoping this had distracted Ryan from the reason why no one was here. "Keith started singing one time when your heart rate went nuts - you know how he does when he gets worried - and you settled back down without the doctors having to do anything. Happened a couple of more times and they realized that it was the singing that was keeping you stable. After that everybody sang as much as they could when they were here."

"So why aren't they here to talk to me now that I'm awake? Afraid I'm going to be too different? Not myself anymore?"

"No, that's not it," said Mr. Kelly, realizing that they were going to have to do this. "Ryan, you fell on June 3rd. Do you remember how long we said you were unconscious?"

"Yeah, 3 weeks...Wait." Ryan thought hard for a minute. His face fell. "They're in Atlantic City, aren't they? Performing without me! Like I said, they left me behind!"

"Ryan, no!" said his mother. "They didn't want to leave you behind, they argued with Sharon about it, but they had to fulfill the contract. That's why they made the recordings, so they could still be here for you! They call every day to see how you are!"

"Yeah, right. How can they fulfill the contract anyway, it's for 5 singers! Without me, there's only 4!"

This was the part they were really nervous about. Mr. Kelly said, "Ryan, I know you don't remember, but right after you and Neil got home, Sharon called you to tell you that she's hired another lad, so there would be 6 of you for Mythology. Young fellow by the name of Colm Keegan. "

"So? They're not doing Mythology in AC!"

"Ryan, Sharon called Colm in to act as your understudy for Atlantic City."

"She replaced me already? Didn't even give me a chance, did she? I suppose after all the mess last summer, and now this, I'm too much trouble to keep on." Ryan's voice was angry, but they could see the tears. "Now I'm really not me anymore," he muttered and turned away from them, curling up into a ball again. They looked helplessly at him, unable to figure out how to explain to his confused brain that he was completely wrong.

Suddenly, Raymond got up and started out of the room. "Ray, where..?" his mother started to ask.

"To call Sharon. Maybe she can talk some sense into him, he's used to listening to her."

"They're probably in the middle of the afternoon show!"

"I don't care. If we don't get this straightened out, he might have survived the broken head, but I don't know if he can survive the broken heart as well."

-Meanwhile, in Atlantic City-

Celtic Thunder was in the middle of finishing the show with Ireland's Call. Sharon stood backstage, watching them. Colm had really stepped up surprisingly well; there'd been a few mistakes but given how little time he'd had to prepare, he'd done nothing less than amazing.

Suddenly her phone went off in her pocket. Pulling it out, she recognized Raymond's number. Ordinarily, she wouldn't have answered backstage, but this was a special situation.

Keith happened to be facing that direction and his sharp eyes caught the movement backstage. He saw Sharon raise the phone to her ear, then saw her face fall. She turned away, raising her hand to her head, and quickly walked away from the stage. Bringing his attention back to the stage with difficulty, he saw Colm raise an eyebrow. "Ryan" he mouthed as he turned in the choreography. Using the subtle language of glances and tiny gestures they'd perfected over years of performing together, Keith was able to pass the message that something was wrong down the line of singers, so that by the end of the song all the singers and half the band knew that something was up, but the audience was none the wiser. As they all tumbled backstage, he was surrounded.

"What's wrong?" "What happened?"

"Sharon took a call backstage," he said. A few jaws dropped. "Ryan?" someone said hopefully.

"If it was, it wasn't good news," Keith said grimly. "She looked like she might have been crying when she left the stage."

"Dear Lord, no," said Neil quietly. "He was doing better! He was awake!"

George stepped in. "Let's not jump to conclusions," he said. "Pass the word to everyone, crew and all, and get them together here. If something has happened, better if we're all together to hear it."

When Sharon returned to the stage a few minutes later, she found a sea of faces anxiously watching her. She was smiling, but tears were running down her face at the same time. Her first words, however, eased their worries a bit.

"Ok," she said, trying to look stern, "Who was looking offstage instead of paying attention to what they were doing?"

"Me," Keith said.

"I should have known," she said with a watery smile. "It would be you. Well, I won't keep you in suspense." She sighed. "As you've probably guessed, the call was about Ryan. Physically, he's fine - out of intensive care, eating, starting therapies. His memory for the few weeks right before he fell still hasn't returned. He's had a rough day today, lots of things to cope with and lots of stress. He suddenly realized tonight that none of you are there. Somehow, he took that, and the fact that he realized that we're here performing without him, and the memory of having to leave us last summer, and the news that Colm was acting as his understudy, to mean that we'd left him behind and I'd permanently replaced him with Colm."

"No!" "How can he think that?" "He knows we'd never leave him behind!"

"We all know that," Sharon said, "but Ryan can't help the fact that his brain is making up things to fill in the gaps he can't remember. To him, right now, since he doesn't remember knowing that Colm was on board BEFORE he was hurt, it's logical that Colm is his replacement rather than his understudy."

"Surely you didn't let him keep believing that?" Emmet said.

"Of course not! I told him directly - yes , I spoke to him - that he has a permanent place with Celtic Thunder, that his space is here whenever he is ready to come back, and that he can come back in whatever capacity he is able to, whenever he is able to."

"Did that ease his mind?" Nicole asked.

"It seems to have," Sharon replied. "But as I said, it's been a hard day for him; he's lost his temper a number of times, as Neil told us he did last night. He's even been throwing things. He's feeling as though he's not himself anymore, and thinking he'd lost his spot with us just made that worse."

Half the cast and crew were crying now, holding each other. George suddenly said, "Sharon, can you get Ryan back on the phone?"

"Probably, why?"

"I think he needs to hear it from all of us."

Sharon smiled, tears falling again. "George, that's a fantastic idea. Let me call Raymond back, and I'll get him to put us on speakerphone."

"All right," George said, "We need to get this organized. Oh, no you don't, lad," he said, hooking a long arm back to catch Colm who was trying to sneak out off the stage, feeling like he didn't belong in this.

"George, I doubt he's going to want to hear from me right now," Colm said.

"Sharon!" George called. "Did Ryan say anything about Colm specifically?"

"Wished him the best of luck is all, even when he was angry at me."

"There, you see," George turned to Colm. "You may not have met Ryan yet, but you're one of his brothers now, too, and you will be here with us. Now, everybody, this is what we'll do when Sharon tells us everything's ready..."

A few minutes later, Sharon gave them the signal. George counted them in, and a unison chorus of "Ryan, we love you!" blew through the speakerphone to Belfast, followed by a variety of "We miss you!" and "Get well soon" and "We can't wait to see you" until George cut them off. Then they heard what they'd been waiting for. Ryan's voice, thick with emotion, but sounding very much himself. "I miss you all, so much. I'll be back, I promise - I'm not letting you do Mythology without me!"

Colm surprised himself, and everyone else, by suddenly calling out, "Ryan, this is Colm! You'd better come back soon, singing those high parts of yours is going to kill me!" Over the ensuing laughter, Keith topped it all off in his own unique fashion. His clear voice rising over the laughter and a gleam of mischief in his eyes, he called out, "Aye, if we have to keep yanking the poor lad's shorts up around his ears every night, we'll do him a permanent mischief!" Which resulted in everybody on both sides of the ocean falling into hysterical laughter, Ryan included.


	5. Chapter 5

The phone call had done Ryan a world of good. Whatever else he might have trouble remembering, he always held onto the fact that his CT family was behind him even if they were an ocean away. His Ipod stayed with him at all times, and if he found himself getting depressed or upset or losing his temper, he would turn on one of the recordings the guys had left him and it would calm him and steady him. He still tired very easily, but the PT was as good as his word and within 2 days Ryan was able to sit up on the edge of the bed for 15 minutes tossing a beach ball back and forth. He was also working on standing and had gotten to the point where he could move himself from the bed to a chair or wheelchair with someone standing guard in case his legs gave out. This gave him greater freedom, and his family was able to take him around the hospital and even outdoors in good weather. He wasn't happy that he wasn't allowed to have his own phone or laptop yet, but family or other visitors (who were now allowed to see him) would let him see the many Facebook pages, posts on the CT and his own websites, and other messages of support and prayer for him. Knowing that the fans had done so much for him, and were so worried about him, also helped keep his spirits up. He spoke to at least some of his CT family every day, and had spoken with David Munro about what he needed to do to get back to singing. David had given him careful instructions (and emailed them to his family as well) on breathing exercises to regain his lung capacity and breath control. These were shared with Ryan's doctors who agreed that they would be extremely helpful and certainly would do no harm. To be sure that Ryan followed the instructions correctly, he was overseen by a respiratory therapist until it was clear that he understood what he needed to do and was performing the exercises correctly without overdoing it. Within a week, he had convinced Raymond to bring his phone to him long enough to send Sharon a text, which she happily reported on the CT website - including the fact that he wasn't supposed to have a phone to text with. Raymond wouldn't let him keep the phone, though, knowing that Ryan would spend hours trying to go through all the well-wishes he'd been sent rather than resting as he needed to.

Within days of Ryan waking up, plans were being made to move him to a specialist brain injury rehabilitation hospital. Ryan just wanted to go home. Long talks, and more than one argument, with both doctors and Sharon convinced Ryan that the best thing he could do was to go to the specialist hospital and let them fully assess him and work on any deficits that were found.

Ryan was transported to the rehab hospital by ambulance. His father rode with him while the rest of the family followed. They shortly found out that a rehabilitation hospital was very different from the regular hospital, and much more to Ryan's liking. He was not only allowed, but expected to dress in regular clothing, to be out of bed and out of his room as much as he was able, and to socialize with the other patients. He could decorate his room with personal things - and he promptly started having cards, pictures, and similar items from the fans put on his walls. He was expected to be involved with decision-making regarding his care. There was a dining room where he could have dinner if he wanted to, although he also had the option of eating in his room. There were activities in the evening and on weekends, even field trips out of the hospital to restaurants and other activities. There was also the possibility of day visits home before he was ready to be discharged.

Not that he really had time or energy for any of the extras for a while. From Ryan's first full day, he was scheduled for either therapy or assessments for 5-7 hours each day. Speech therapy, not just how he pronounced words, but also his ability to construct and understand complex sentences and abstract concepts. Occupational therapy, where he was assessed not only on his ability to dress, feed, and care for himself, but also on his finger dexterity for working with small parts and at speed. It was found that his hands and fingers were a bit stiff from not using them for so long, and his dexterity was less than it should be. Physical therapy, his favorite, where he worked on strength, endurance, balance, and agility in addition to walking. And the most grueling of all, cognitive assessment and therapy. This consisted of hours of tests of every kind of mental process imaginable. Everything from being able to put the parts of a task into the correct sequence, to recalling increasingly long series of letters or numbers, to mental mathematics, to spatial awareness and processing, to reading comprehension. Ryan often found that he had to stop the speech and cognitive sessions early as they produced blinding headaches that would leave him exhausted. This was a natural side effect of forcing the injured parts of his brain to start working again, but it left him depressed and anxious, wondering how he'd ever cope with the stress of rehearsals and touring if he couldn't get through an hour or an hour and a half of therapy.

Fortunately, the other patients were all in the same boat he was. Some were much more severely injured, and he counted his blessings as he watched them struggle to regain the ability to move or produce a sound, or even to respond to a question by blinking or looking at the correct answer. Others were at a similar level to his, and they supported, consoled, and congratulated each other as they moved through the ups and downs of recovery.

One day, Ryan found his own way to support the others. He'd been working in occupational therapy, where the therapists had discovered his love for Star Wars and toys. One of the therapists had brought in her son's LEGO Star Wars kits for Ryan to build, which were excellent not only for his finger use but also for sequencing and spatial concepts as he worked his way through the picture directions. Being the thorough therapists that they were, they had Ryan set up at a high table which had a set of parallel bars coming out of each side. This way, Ryan had to stand and work on his balance and endurance as well as his finger movements and could use the bars to support himself or to get up and down from his chair when he needed a break. There were several other patients on the other sides of the table, each working on their own tasks - putting together and taking apart nuts and bolts, doing puzzles, stringing beads, or whatever they found enjoyable. Ryan was enjoying the toys and the challenge of getting them together correctly, and without realizing it, was singing quietly to himself as he worked. As he sat down to take a break, the man next to him said, "When you're ready to start again, why don't you sing out and let us all enjoy it? Fine voice you're singing with, you should share it!" The others at the table agreed. Ryan was concerned about distracting the other patients. He beckoned his therapist over to ask if it was OK and she assured him that it was perfectly fine, and if he felt up to it, to go right ahead. The therapists, of course, all knew of Ryan's occupation, even if the other patients didn't, and they knew that being able to multi-task, singing and doing other things at the same time, was going to be an essential skill for him to regain when he would need to be remembering choreography, complex vocal arrangements, and a thousand other things while he was on stage.

So, when Ryan got back up to keep working, he started singing again, only this time he let his voice rise - not to a stage level, of course, but loud enough to be heard throughout the therapy area. A few people stopped in surprise to find out who was singing, but then got back to work with smiles on their faces. Ryan found he couldn't stand as long while he was singing because he got out of breath, but he was enjoying being able to make people happy with his voice again, and would start again each time he got back to work. When it was time for him to leave for his next therapy, he got a lot of thanks and compliments as well as a few people telling him he should take that voice professional. For now, he just smiled, and thanked them in return. He wasn't sure yet that he wanted to let his secret out when he couldn't be sure when or if he'd get back to the stage again, however determined he was to do so. He did, however, start pestering his family to bring his guitar in for him, and he sang during his OT sessions every time he could.


	6. Chapter 6

Ryan was making astonishingly rapid progress, all of the doctors and therapists agreed. When he'd arrived, he'd needed a break every hour or so to rest, or he'd disappear into the withdrawal state, or get angry and aggressive. He'd struggled with a lot of the cognitive tasks. He could stand for a while, and walk 10 or 15 feet in between parallel bars before his legs would give out. By the time he was done with his therapies for the day, he was exhausted, and stayed in his room listening to his Ipod or sometimes just staring into space until he fell asleep if he was too tired to even cope with the music.

By the end of his first full week there, Ryan was walking to all of his therapies, escorted in case he lost his balance or tired before he got there. He was breezing through all but the hardest or longest cognitive tasks, although they still gave him headaches. He no longer lost control of his temper. He would still sometimes slide into the withdrawal but it happened less frequently and for shorter periods. Ryan was convinced that he was ready to go home. He didn't realize how much easier the hospital environment, with its steady schedule and relative calm, was to handle than the outside world would be. Sharon, his doctors, and his parents all agreed that giving Ryan a day pass to his parents' house would help him realize that he wasn't ready to leave the hospital just yet.

Ryan went with his parents in their car. It was the first time he'd been in a car for over a month. It was about an hour drive to the house, and by the end of the hour, Ryan already had a headache from watching everything flying by the window. There were so many more things to see and hear that he found it hard to keep up with everything. Trying to hold a conversation at the same time was exhausting and confusing. He kept losing track of the subject. When they got to the house, Ryan headed straight for the big recliner chair and sat back with his feet up. His parents could see the empty look in his eyes that meant he was overwhelmed, and left him alone - except for his cat, Rory, who had immediately jumped up and settled on Ryan's legs.  
In the calm of the house, Ryan was able to get things sorted fairly quickly and called his parents back in. They talked about how much harder it was to function out here than in the hospital, and what Ryan needed to be able to do to be ready to come home. At the same time, they realized that he needed more challenges in the hospital to get him ready to cope with rehearsals and performing. In the end, they agreed that his guitar, laptop, and phone could go back with him. They also asked David Munro to send Ryan one or two pieces of his solo music from Mythology to start working on.

For the next week, Ryan did all his usual therapies as well as working on his breathing, his music, and getting his hands back to shape for the guitar again. Having the music to work on gave him focus and a challenge. He was also able to get out onto Facebook and Twitter and realize just how much the fans were worrying about him. Shortly after the beginning of July, he sent out his first Twitter/Facebook update and both sites exploded with expressions of joy that he was able to communicate with the fans again. He made sure to let the fans know how much he appreciated all their prayers, concern, and well-wishes.

Celtic Thunder would be home in the next few days. Sharon, knowing that Ryan needed to see them as much as they needed to see him, agreed to arrange a group trip - but she limited it to the other singers and the main band members. Colm decided not to come along and Declan was unable to due to a family commitment, but the other 4 singers, Barry, Nicole, Laura, Seana, and Sharon all came. Ryan knew they were coming after his last therapy on Friday, and that he had a pass to go out to dinner with them. His last therapy was always PT, and he'd developed a good relationship with his therapist, a young woman named Maura. She was very petite, but she had amazed Ryan with the way she was able to assist much larger patients than herself. She, in turn, was impressed with how hard he worked and how fast he was recovering. Ryan had asked Maura if she wanted to meet his bandmates, and as Ryan was her last patient for the afternoon, she'd walked up to his room with him. Ryan was standing by his bed while Maura was looking at the cards and photographs he'd hung on the walls.

"Ryan," she said, laughing, "Why are all these people calling you Heartbreaker and 'Dark Destroyer'? That doesn't fit you at all!"

"It's the part I play in the show," he said simply.

"Oh, come on. You are one of the sweetest men I've ever met, I can't believe that you can play a part like that!" She was still looking at the pictures rather than at him, and Ryan decided to have a little fun - and make sure he could still play the part.

"Oh, you can't, eh?" came a drawling, arrogant voice from behind Maura. "I guess I'll just have to prove it to you, then."

She whirled around, surprised. The voice didn't even sound like Ryan, and the man standing there looked tall, strong, and every inch of "tall, dark, and handsome" - but he had an almost cruel, cold look in his eye as he appraised her, with a smirk that was one step shy of a leer, and made no attempt to hide the fact that he found her very attractive and would get what he wanted, and then leave her in the dust.

"Ryan?" she whispered. She couldn't believe this was the same man. He was almost frightening, but incredibly attractive and well, downright sexy, at the same time. Then he winked at her, his body language changed so subtly that she couldn't have said what the difference was, and the Ryan she knew stood there again, grinning at her with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"Wow!" she said, breathless. "That was amazing. I believe it now, that's got to have the ladies swooning in the aisles! Are all the other guys like that, too?"

"No," he laughed. "I think that would be too much for any crowd to handle, don't you? You're about to find out, anyway," he said, raising his head and listening to a sudden commotion in the hall. He smiled at the racket.

Maura heard what sounded like a pack of elephants coming down the hall, very fast. She looked at Ryan, knowing that he still wasn't completely sure of his balance at times and expecting him to sit down or at least brace himself. He did neither, just stood there easily grinning and looking with anticipation at the doorway. She started to get worried. At the rate the pack of them were coming, they were going to knock him over as soon as they got to him. She took one step towards him but he shook his head and said "Stand back, or they'll run over you!"

The first two through the door were a tall, bald man and a shorter, stockier brunette who looked like a rugby player. Maura saw the two of them look at Ryan, glance at each other and nod, then split to move to either side of Ryan, each putting one arm around his shoulders - so when the rest of the pack hit, the three of them took the shock together and Ryan was never in any danger even as he was buried under what seemed like a sea of men. It was a massive hug, and as it continued she gradually realized that there were really only 5 or 6 men there, even though it had sounded like twice that.

"All right now!" she heard Ryan's laughing voice rise out of the mass of bodies. "Get off of me, you lot, and let me breathe, will you!" Laughing and joyous, they all moved apart as 4 women came in the door. The three younger ones went to Ryan and gave him a much gentler group hug as the oldest woman stood back beside Maura, watching them fondly. As the people milled about, Maura caught a glimpse of a head of blond hair moving swiftly out the door. The woman next to her saw it, too, and shook her head, smiling.

"Keith," she said. "My sensitive one who likes to pretend he's tough."

"These aren't all your children, are they?" Maura gasped.

"Good heavens, no, none of them," the woman laughed, "but they might as well be. I'm the producer for Celtic Thunder, Sharon Brown, and this crew are the other singers and the band."

"What did you mean about the man who left?" Maura asked.

"Keith? He'll have seen what the others haven't really noticed yet, how frail Ryan looks, and he's disappeared to try to cope with it before anybody sees that he's upset."

"Frail?" Maura said. "You're joking. That man may be thin, but he's anything but frail."

Sharon looked at her. "I'm his physical therapist." Maura explained. "I still haven't managed to come up with a workout that really challenges him. It's amazing how he's recovering."

"Would you mind going to talk to Keith, then? I'm pretty sure I know what he's worrying about, and you might be just the person to answer his questions."

"I'll try," she said gamely. "Where am I likely to find him?"

"Somewhere nearby, but private. An empty room, side hallway, something like that. Someplace quiet."

Maura left the room, thinking. She turned down the hall, towards a small, rarely used prayer/meditation room. Sharon had been right, Keith was standing just inside the door where he couldn't easily be seen from the hallway, leaning against the wall with eyes closed and tears running down his cheeks.

Maura stepped inside quietly. "Keith?" she said. "Sharon said I might be able to help you with what's worrying you. I'm Ryan's physical therapist."

Keith opened his eyes, and she was stunned by the beauty of them - a mix of blue, green and brown all at once - even through the tears. He looked down at the floor. "He looks so weak", he said. "He'd have fallen over if George and Emmet hadn't braced him. Recording and rehearsing are bad enough, but they can be adjusted to fit what he needs to a certain point. But touring's grueling, and there's no way to adjust the schedule for illness. There's no way he's going to be ready to do that. It was hard enough doing two weeks without him, it's going to be miserable doing the whole fall tour."

"When do those things start?" Maura asked.

"Rehearsing and recording the backstage stuff at the beginning of August, recording the DVD towards the end of August, and then the fall tour - which is a completely different show than the one we're filming - starts at the beginning of September."

"I think he'll surprise you," Maura said. "Heaven knows, I've come up with a new workout every day that I think will be a challenge for him, and every day he goes beyond what I've set him. He's already nearly a month ahead of where he really should be. We were playing basketball an hour ago."

Keith looked up, his eyes more hopeful now. "Really? He looks like he could barely make it down the hall."

"I'm sure he's lost a lot of muscle mass," Maura said, "and that makes him, I suppose, look weak or frail to you. I didn't know him before he came here, of course, and I can tell you that even though he's thin, the strength and endurance are coming back rapidly. If you keep looking out for him like - what were their names, George and Emmet? - did just now, he'll be just fine."

Keith grinned at her. "Thanks," he said seriously. "I needed to hear that. I'd better get back or they'll leave for dinner without me."


	7. Chapter 7

The dinner out with the crew was a lot of fun. Sharon had reserved a private room at a nearby restaurant, so they could be as rowdy as they wanted. Stories and jokes were flying around as they ate their usual hearty meals. Emmet, sitting next to Ryan, noticed that he was eating, but not really paying attention to his food.

"Are you really that hungry, dude?" he said. "You're shoveling it in like you haven't eaten in weeks!"

"I didn't," said Ryan, grinning. "Still making up for it, you know?"

"You could at least look like you're enjoying it, then! I don't think you even know what's on your fork!"

Ryan glanced down at his plate sadly, then looked at Emmet. "I don't," he said. "Lost my sense of taste and smell, completely. I've learned to just eat it rather than look at it; if I look at it, I expect to taste it, and then I don't. It's easier this way."

Emmet gaped at him. "You're kidding," he said.

"Nope. Wish I was, mate. But if this is what I had to lose, I'll take it; better than most other things I could have lost. The docs say it might come back with time, they keep reminding me how short a time it's been since the injury, and how slowly brain tissue heals."

When they'd all finished eating and were sitting around the table with coffee and tea, the general rowdiness continued. Ryan could feel himself getting overwhelmed, but he was enjoying being with his CT family again too much to want to leave. So he just sat there, lost in his own mind, letting the noise go past him. Neil, sitting across from him, noticed the empty look in his eyes that they'd been told about and said, "Hey guys, calm it down a bit. Ryan's phased out on us, it's too much for him."

They all looked nervously at Ryan, not having experienced this before, but knowing they'd have to get used to it and watch for it if they were to help him get back to the group. "Dang, that's weird," Keith said. "Sitting right there, but it's like he's not there at all."

"I CAN hear you, you know," Ryan said quietly. Now that it had calmed down, he could focus a little better, but he was still distant from them.

"What's it feel like?" Laura asked.

"Hard to describe," he answered, very slowly, searching for the words. "Like I'm way off in the distance and everything's jumbled up in my head, it's hard to make sense of anything. Hard to find the words to put together." The quiet, though, was giving him a chance to recover. "Sometimes music helps to get things kind of reorganized."

Neil started singing softly, the high, clear, impossibly sweet, almost unearthly voice that only he could produce. And Ryan broke.

All the stress, fear, anxiety, depression, and all the other emotions of the last few weeks hit him all at once. He burst into tears, burying his face in his hands and pushing himself back from the table, trying to get away. They were all around him in an instant, standing or kneeling beside him, wrapping their arms around whatever part of him they could reach or around each other if they couldn't reach him. He fought against them, briefly, but then gave in to it and just let himself cry. Eventually, as the tears started to die down, he choked out, "I'm ..sorry. You ..didn't need..to see that."

George said it for all of them. "It's a heck of a lot better than seeing you in that bed, not even knowing we were there. I'll take this, any day. What are brothers and sisters for, if not to help you through stuff like this?"

Neil, who was crying himself, said softly, "I'm sorry, Ryan, I didn't mean..." Ryan reached for him and the others made room, letting Ryan pull him close. "It's OK, Neil. I didn't know it would happen either, but I needed it. I've been trying so hard to stay strong and I haven't let myself get through all that. Hearing you singing, right here next to me, let everything open up and come out. It's good. It's all good."

Inevitably, that was the end of the evening. Keith, who lived nearby, had come in his own car and they decided it would be better if he took Ryan back to the hospital, rather than overwhelming Ryan with the whole crowd in one van. It was a quiet ride. When they got back to the hospital, Keith walked back to Ryan's room with him. Once inside the door, he pulled Ryan into a tight hug.

"God, it's good to have you back, man," he said. "It was awful trying to get through the AC shows without you. I kept turning around to find you and you weren't there. Colm's a rock, he managed everything with hardly enough rehearsal time to even know when he needed to be on stage, but nothing sounded right with his voice instead of yours."

Ryan pulled away enough to look at him. "I'm not back singing yet, you know," he said softly. "I'm determined to be there for Mythology and for the tour, you know that. But I can't promise it, yet."

"You will be," Keith said firmly. " **I** know that."

Another week, and all were agreed that Ryan was ready to leave the hospital. By some miracle, the only apparent lasting damage was his loss of the sense of taste and smell. He was warned that he would likely continue to have headaches and periods of confusion or withdrawal for a while if he became over-tired or over-stressed, and that eating properly and getting enough rest were essential for his continued recovery. He took a week at home and then, with the blessing of his doctors and Sharon's agreement, went to Dublin and started rehearsals for Mythology.

There he met Colm for the first time. The two of them hit it off instantly, and Ryan realized that Colm hadn't been joking about the difficulty of singing Ryan's parts; some of them really were at the absolute top of Colm's range, and singing them on a regular basis had been a strain for him. Nonetheless, the lad was learning his own as well as Ryan's parts for Mythology, and it had already been decided that Colm would go on the fall tour with them as well, singing his own parts, but available to act as Ryan's understudy if Ryan couldn't take the pace. So the poor fellow was learning four sets of parts for 2 shows at once, and Ryan marveled that he was able to keep it all straight. He really was a rock, as Keith had described him - and tremendous fun as well. He fit right in with the joking, teasing atmosphere that was Celtic Thunder at work.

The fact that they were rehearsing, for the first time, in a sports centre made it easy for Ryan to continue his workouts to regain his strength and endurance, or let him disappear to an empty basketball court and shoot baskets if he needed some time to himself. Someone was always with him, often Neil, Emmet or Colm, but even Keith would go along, working on songs while Ryan shot hoops. The worst part of being there was having to haul Keith out of the pool in time for his parts in the rehearsals; they started to tease him that he was part fish and would sing underwater if he could find a way to do it. Belinda, their choreographer, on the other hand, was thoroughly pleased with the arrangement because it meant that she didn't have to keep one eye out for nonsense from the ones who weren't rehearsing but who were usually stuck in the rehearsal hall with them.

Finally the days for taping Mythology had arrived. There was a bit of a rough spot backstage when Colm, goofing for the cameras by pretending to interview the others who were getting made up, hit Ryan with an unexpected question and Ryan froze for a split second, unable to find the words...but fortunately he was able to get something out and the bit was used in the backstage footage.

Being back on stage was a tremendous joy for Ryan and a triumph as well, and it all showed through, somehow, in the ending of "House of The Rising Sun". When he got to that last note, Ryan raised his arms and flung his head back, singing to the rafters - and wouldn't have been surprised if he floated a few inches above the stage at that moment. The feeling came through clearly in the film as well. Keith was so pleased to have Ryan back that he couldn't help grinning at him any time they were singing together, and at the end of "My Land", Keith was actually in tears on stage.

And so they moved on to the fall tour. Sharon had been firm that, if she felt it necessary, she would pull Ryan from part of a show or a whole show if need be, and have Colm perform in his place, but it was never needed. Rarely did they even need to change their routine to suit him. The others kept an eye on him and made sure to let him have quiet time when they saw he needed it, without being obvious about it. One thing did change, though.

One day, during some down time at the venue, Colm, Emmet, and Neil were playing around with a soccer ball as they often did. Ryan was doing something on his computer. "Come on, Ryan, play with us!" Emmet called. "We know you're not tired!"

Ryan looked over at them with a wistful grin. "I can't," he said simply.

"What do you mean, you can't?" said Neil.

"Not allowed to. The docs said I can't do any contact sports for at least 6 months, nothing that would risk me getting banged in the head again - and you know if I get in there with you guys, I'll end up heading the ball at some point."

They all gaped at him, and then at each other. "Well, that stinks," said Colm, finally.

"You can keep playing," Ryan said. "I don't mind."

"We do," they all said together. "Not going to be fun playing and knowing you can't join in," said Emmet.

Suddenly Colm got a huge grin on his face. "I have an idea," he said, and tore off into the backstage area. They all looked at each other, shrugging their shoulders at the "strange young man", as Emmet had dubbed him. About 10 minutes later, he came back, carrying a ball of tape like that they used to mark the floor of the stage for their positions.

"Where'd you find that?" Neil said.

"I remembered seeing it near the bin when we came through, the crew must have pulled up a load of tape from whoever was here before us and left it there. I just got them to give me a bit more so I could cover up all the sticky bits. It's got enough weight to be able to throw it well, but it's light enough it shouldn't be a problem if it hits Ryan."

"Colm, you're a genius," said Ryan, getting up and joining them. "Let's give it a try." They started throwing the ball back and forth, trying to see how far they could throw it and how many times they could catch it before someone dropped it - and a new game was born. Somehow the ball got named "Willis" and was carefully packed into Neil's bags so it didn't get left behind. And everything was back to normal at last.


End file.
